My Rose
by Immortal Shade
Summary: Kartik finds himself suffering from feelings he does not understand. Moreover, he can not help but feel drawn to her. One night, he finally understands why. OneShot implied early Karma


**Okay. So this is my first fanfic in what, 3 years?... Wow... Anywho, I had originally planned for this to be a continued story, but I find that a oneshot captures the scene better.**

Night. A time of separation; a time of unveiled mysteries. It is any sane man's enemy, and yet I find it comforting. Is this an indication of my insanity? Yes, insanity. I am insane to take interest in this mere English girl. She is but a task, a disposable icon once her use is over. She is the key to either our success or failure; but to me, I'm afraid she is much more.

I will not admit to my feelings. For crying out loud, I should not have these feelings in the first place! Feelings are a nuisance. They interfere with a man's duty, and provide nothing but sorrow and grief in the long run. I can not be diverged from my assignment. They will not accept it, and neither will I.

But these feelings, they keep on returning night after night, and instead of sorrow and grief, they bring the opposite to offer me solace and reassurance. Have I been lied to, or are these teachings faulted?... Or am I truly insane, insane enough to trust the counsel of my heart over the sacred scripts?

Perhaps this insanity can properly explain my strange conduct each night. First, tramping along dirt paths through the dark forest, frisking across the lush green lawn, then climbing up the familiar worn rope into a certain Spence girl's bedroom. The journey has become a routine for me, almost to the point of being addictive... almost addicting as the girl herself. And as I swing my legs over the ledge this night, I finally enter that small bedroom shared with Miss Bradshaw.

The pleasant scent of feminine fragrances immediately fill my nostrils, reminding me of that one night in the Gypsy camp when she came with her friends to see Mother Elena. The brash, unexpected action she performed in order to "save" her troupe had intoxicated me with her scent, her lips... her taste.

I gaze around and find the source of the fragrance from the wash basin filled with rose petals, located near the window. My eyes briefly glance at it before settling on the sleeping form in the corner bed. I can see the white sheets rising and falling with each breath. I can count her heartbeats and this mesmerizes me. Suddenly, I have an urge to fall at her side and gather her soft warm body in my arms, to catch her rosy scent in my senses, to merge my heartbeat with hers in an undulating rhythm so beautiful that it is forbidden.

My mind wanders further into a fantasy of its own as I stand there, only vaguely aware of the other sleeping girl. But it no longer matters; all I can see is her, her vibrant figure, more daring than any beast, beckoning me forward with unintentional enchantment. _Yes, that's it! I am enchanted, that's what's happened to me._ I search for the logical reason behind my nonsensical infatuation, but the truth is... there is no logical explanation, there is only magic at work. She is a sorceress after all. Who knows what trickery she has performed on my body to persuade me to behave as thus. But if I am indeed enchanted, I am rather fond of this feeling –light and fluttery, as if floating. It brings me the joy of longing, of purpose.

Another step forward and I am almost at her bed's edge. I dare not move closer, for that shall surely press our boundaries. And once crossed, the border between our worlds shall be broken, never the same again. No, it is better this way, to stay by the laws in the safe havens of our own territories where everything makes sense and no one can fall under risk's reproachful wing. My destiny has been predetermined, as has hers; and though they may somewhat intertwine, the boundaries are still clear and persistent. We are each a separated railway track with our own destinations, and despite the occasional weaving, we shall never travel as one. We are each... alone.

A soft sigh escapes her lips that causes me to blanche and stiffen. I dare not move, in fear that she will notice the quick shadowy movement traveling across her closed eyelids. But my fear was unnecessary, for she was only turning in her sleep. And now once more, her breathing returns to its usual pace. If only mine would as well...

With her face in my direction, I can see her beautiful skin made pale by the moonlight. Untamed tendrils frame her face in fiery passion and fall about her slim shoulders in tousled ringlets. Even in slumber she appears like a goddess. A goddess of beauty, peace, and hope.

A tight constriction in my chest alerts me. I realize that I have been holding my breath this entire time, as if subconsciously hoping that like my breath, time would also stand still while I worship my sorceress... my goddess. Slowly, I draw my breaths. The moment has passed. My inner voice insists that I leave, but I choose to ignore it. Instead, I shuffle closer until I am bordering on that invisible line of division. Beneath my fluttering lashes, I see her lips, parted just so in a delicious manner. It calls out to me like mermaids to a lost sailor. Perhaps in a way, she is my mermaid, luring me in with her mental song until I lose myself forever in her fiery depths. _She will be the death of me..._

My eyes travel onto her white neck, then even lower where her nightgown collar has been unclasped and barely shields the crests of her breasts from nightly elements... and men's eyes. A rush of images flood my thoughts at this point, something I must thank (or blame) imagination for, and I avert my eyes. Already, a low heat travels up my neck to breach my face, and yet another warmth spreads within my loins, a feeling that is foreign yet not entirely uncomfortable.

Closing my eyes, I regain my senses and dignity. I finally tear my resisting feet from the ground and shift back to the window in silently trained steps. My instincts tell me to leave at once but as soon as I catch the scent of roses again, I can not help but turn. A grin grazes my lips as I move to the basin and pluck a floating petal from the shimmering pool. I bring it to my nose and inhale the intoxicating aroma before ushering a soft kiss upon it. In two quick strides I am back at her bedside and have deposited the petal upon her pillow where she shall discover it come awakening.

"A rose for my rose..." I whisper as I look down upon my sleeping beauty. For she is my rose. A delicate flower that defeats all seasons and returns after each frost in renewed determination and even greater beauty. While her thorns may cut deep, it is but a guise of the magnificent treasure protected by these mighty weapons - the forbidden fruit. My ship's calling.

In an instant, I have sprinted back to the window and begun to clamber down the thick rope, leaving no mark of my intrusion except the echoes of my bellowing cape and my lagging shadow. But even those will dissipate. Tomorrow, my rose shall awaken with not a clue of my visit. She will go on her daily routines as if nothing has changed except perhaps the mysterious displacement of one of her rose petals.

But the truth is, something great has changed. _I_ have been changed in a most glorious awakening. For now I realize that I am not under the influence of uncertainty, insanity, or enchantment. Uncertainty is for the weak-minded and the weak-souled, and I know for a fact that I am neither. Insanity only courses through madmen -those who have lost all direction of sense and consciousness. And enchantment does not offer choice; one simply does what the magic tells them to do. I for one was drawn to my sorceress but _chose_ my actions. No, I'm afraid it is none of these, my friends.

For I, Kartik, am in love.

**So, was that enjoyable? I initially intended it to be more stalkerish in quality, but having just finished TSFT, I needed something short and sweet. Anyway, like or dislike, and why? Please do inform me. I appreciate any concrit as long as it's reasonable.  
**


End file.
